


Wrong Order

by Phiso



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 10:49:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4057168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phiso/pseuds/Phiso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint tells Natasha about a conversation he had with Laura.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong Order

It's dark outside in the hours before sunrise. Outside a lone house in the middle of a field, there is a man sitting on the porch steps, a light by the door illuminating the path before him. There is the sound of footsteps on gravel, and a woman walks into the porch light, stopping next to the wooden steps.

"How's Laura?" she asks.

Clint scoots over to make room for the newcomer. "She's fine,” he tells his partner. “They're just keeping her one more night for observation."

"She had a rough delivery," Natasha says, taking the offer and sitting down beside him. "The kids must miss her."

"We all do."

“They asleep?”

“Yeah, they’ve got school tomorrow. Gotta get up early for a balanced breakfast.” Clint shifts his weight, and Natasha looks over just in time to see a large styrofoam cup behind him fall over, spilling coffee away from the pair.

“Aw, coffee,” Clint complains, picking it back up and looking into the empty container. “That was my breakfast.”

"I’ll make you some more. You've always been a lousy cook," she remarks, a small smile on her lips. “You sure you guys aren’t starving?”

Clint stretches and sighs. " _Coffee_ doesn’t involve cooking. But thank God for cereal, pizza delivery, and ramen noodle cups."

“Ramen for breakfast?”

“Hey, I said we had cereal. What's with the judgement, did Laura send you?”

"Maybe. You're going to have to hit the gym hard to get that weight off."

"Don't kick my ass too badly when I get back."

There is a comfortable lull in the conversation, and the two look out over the Barton property, watching as the first rays of sunlight start to break through the darkness.

"You know what Laura called you the other day?" Clint says out of nowhere, eyes still on the horizon.

"Hm?"

"My 'Work Wife'.”

Natasha gives him a sharp look, not liking where this conversation was going. “‘Work Wife’?”

“Yep. Said it very casually, like it was no big deal."

"What did you say?" Her voice is on the edge of dangerous, but Clint just turns to her, curious.

"I told her never to call you that. She said, 'Why? She is.' Just like that - no accusations, no anger, just matter-of-fact, like she was saying you were a redhead."

Natasha searches Clint's face for any lies of omission, but she doesn't see any; just piqued interest.

"She explained," he continues, shifting to face her more, "that you, like any good wife, watch my back and my family’s, keep me from making stupid mistakes, and make sure I’m in one piece when the mission's done."

"That's what best friends do. She's the one you go home to.”

"This isn't my only home," Clint corrects her. Natasha looks away and back towards the fields.

"I'm surprised you'd call SHIELD home. SHIELD doesn’t even really exist anymore, not the way we knew it."

"And the Avengers?"

"I’m surprised you’d call the tower home."

"It’s more like the people in it. One person, in particular.”

“I didn’t realize you and Stark were such good friends. Does Pepper know?”

“Nat.”

Natasha doesn't want to respond to this, and so she trains her eyes on a tree in the distance, trying to will the situation away with her silence. When she doesn't reply, Clint sighs again.

"Laura's got a good eye for things. I'm not going to ignore her when she points things out."

"How do you know that what she's seeing is there?" This is a sore subject for Natasha, and she wishes he’d just drop it.

"She knows you."

"Does she? We’re friends, but she’s not you."

"That's true, she thought you had a thing for Bruce."

There is the smallest twitch in Natasha's face that tells Clint he called it.

"And you didn't," she says.

"'Course not. You may have had Laura fooled, Cap, even Bruce himself, but I know better. I know when you're playing someone."

Natasha turns to Clint with a coy expression. "How do you know I'm not playing you now, Barton? How do you know I'm not always playing you?"

Clint looks her in the eye.

"Because I've seen you play. I can see when you pull back behind your walls and put on one of your masks, and you know I can see past them all. If I couldn't, you wouldn't have told me anything. Hell, you wouldn’t have come with me in the first place."

Natasha meets his gaze evenly, and for one long minute, they say nothing.

"So you think I played Banner."

"Of course."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I trust that if you're playing with someone, you have a good reason for it."

They turn away at the same time. Natasha's gaze drops before sparing a glance at Clint, who's back to watching the wind rustle the grass.

"’Work Wife’."

"Her words, not mine."

"Clint, you're married."

"Yep."

"To Laura."

"That’s her name."

"I respect Laura."

"I know you do."

"I don't want to hurt her."

"I know you don't."

"You just had another kid."

"I am well-aware of that, thank you, I have the whole thing on tape."

"Then why are you telling me all this?"

"Because sometimes," Clint sighs, agitated, "sometimes I think this all happened in the wrong order."

There is a tense pause after these words, where neither one of them is sure of what to say next, and neither can decide if they wish those words had never been said.

"You know I can't give you what she can," Natasha says quietly.

"I know, and I love her, and the kids, a lot," Clint says roughly. "They're a part of me, and I'm so, so lucky to have them. But she can't give me what you can, either."

Natasha lets out a stiff laugh. "And what's that?"

Clint turns and looks Natasha in the eye intently. "You know what that is."

"Clint Francis Barton," Natasha says warily. "Watch your mouth."

"Natalia Alianovna Romanova," Clint shoots back, "what exactly do you think I'm proposing?"

"You've had stupid ideas before. Do I have you remind you of what happened in Rio?"

"That was ONE TIME. And I paid for that haircut for you."

There is a brief exchange of glares before Clint cracks a grin, and Natasha rolls her eyes, pushing him away.

"Hey, really, though, Nat," Clint says gently. "I'm not expecting anything. I'm just telling you, because you're my partner, and after all that's happened, I'm getting tired of having to hide things.”

"I've never lied to you when I didn't have to," Natasha protests. "Not without a good reason, not when it didn't involve a mission. And it's not like you haven't lied to me."

"I know," he reassures her, nudging her gently with a shoulder. "We're spies, I get it. That's part of the deal. As a wise woman once told me, no one is ever all things to all people all the time, and I accept that. I trust you to lie to me when you have to, and to be honest with me when it counts. And right now, for me, this counts."

"Clint - "

"It doesn't have to count for you. Truth or lie, whatever you choose to say, I'll take it, because I trust you're doing it for the right reasons. When it comes to things like this, no matter what game you're playing, I'll play along. Like I always have."

Natasha studies her hands as she thinks, afraid of what this conversation could mean, what it would mean to Laura, to Clint, to herself. She knew she could never have what she truly wanted, but was she inadvertently ruining it for Clint now, too? "Do you think...Is Laura still willing to have me over for Christmas? I don’t want to bother your family."

Clint smiles as he wraps his arm around Natasha’s shoulders and hugs her close. "She's already bought you your Christmas present."


End file.
